"So would we all. Crockerman doesn't specifically forbid it . . . but Ormandy never lingers long enough for any of us to confront him. The man's a goddamn shadow in the White House."

Rotterjack shook his head and grinned. "You'd think Ormandy was one of them.”

"Who?" Schwartz asked.

"The invaders."

Schwartz frowned. "See what's going to happen if the President goes public? We're even beginning to think like gullible idiots."

"Have you thought what could be happening?" Rotterjack persisted. "If they 'manufactured' the Guest, couldn't they make robots that look human, human enough to pass?"

"I'm more frightened about what that idea can do to us than I am about it's being true," Arthur said.

"Yeah, well, there it is," Rotterjack said. "Take it for what it's worth. Somebody out there is going to think of it."

"It'll tear us apart," Schwartz said. "Just what they might want. Christ, now I'm talking like that."

"Maybe it's just as well we bring it out in the open," Arthur said. "We haven't accomplished anything keeping it quiet."

"Not the way he'd release it," Rotterjack said. "What'll you do if McClennan fails to get his point across—again?" he asked Schwartz.

"Eventually, after the election, I could resign," Schwartz said, his tone fiat, neutral. "He might want to put together a wartime Cabinet anyway."

"Will you?"

Schwartz stared down at the sky-blue carpet. Arthur, following his gaze, thought of the myriad of privileges suggested by that luxurious color, so difficult to keep clean. A myriad of attractions to keep men like Schwartz and Rotterjack working.

"No," Schwartz said. "I'm just too goddamn loyal. If he does this to me—to us, to all of us—I'll resent him like hell. But he'll still be the President."

"There are quite a few congressmen and senators who'll work to change that, if he does go public," Rotterjack said.

"Don't I know."

"They'd be the real patriots, you know, not you and I."

Schwartz's face filled with pained resentment and frank acknowledgment. He half nodded, half shook his head and stood up from the desk. "All right, David. But we've got to keep the White House together somehow. What else is there? Who'll take his place? The Veep?"

Rotterjack chuckled ironically.

"Right," Schwartz said. "Arthur, if I make an appointment—if I ram it down the President's throat— can you get Feinman out here, and can you and Hicks and he do your best to . . . you know? Do what we can't?"

"If it can be in the next day or so, and if there are no delays."

"Feinman's that sick?" Rotterjack asked.

"He's in treatment. It's difficult."

"Why couldn't you have found . . . never mind," Rotterjack said.

"Feinman's the best," Arthur replied to the half-stated query.

Rotterjack nodded glumly.

"We'll give it a try," Arthur said.